


Operational Override

by Nejinee



Series: Standard Operating Procedure [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Adorable Steve Rogers, Beefy Bucky, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Sparring, Steve Rogers Feels, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wrestling, fitness, hero uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:44:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7361962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nejinee/pseuds/Nejinee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In typical Bucky fashion, he’d taken Steve's love confession in stride, fully onboard with Steve Rogers being smitten with his dumb face. Yet Steve fretted about the fact Bucky still hadn't put time aside for making out or getting handsy with Steve (which would be greatly appreciated).</p><p>Steve used their sparring and training sessions to work out his frustrations on the matter.</p><p>Steve was also getting antsy about adding Bucky to the Avengers' roster. He had to not only coerce Bucky into getting fitted for an Avengers uniform, but he also had to try HIS GOSH DARN BEST to not be distracted by Bucky's beefy, unrelentingly distracting physique.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operational Override

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is part two of my 'Standard Operating Procedure" series. I guess it's a series now? Anyhoo, I would recommend reading part one, but it's not completely necessary. :)
> 
> Beefy Bucky again, because YES.

So they still hadn’t _actually_ kissed, something that was deeply vexing to Captain Steven Grant Rogers. 

 

He tried not to think too hard on the topic, but it wasn’t exactly easy when all he wanted to do was press his own lips against those of James Buchanan Barnes, friend resurrected from the dead for Steve’s personal happiness. Bucky made Steve excruciatingly happy. So happy, it was pretty gross to everyone else around.

Sam was adjusting to the dynamic, had been for weeks, but Steve could tell it kind of made the Falcon’s eye twitch whenever Steve gave Bucky that _aw shucks, darlin’_ head tilt of his. Natasha couldn’t seem to care less, like it was normal for two undead zombie super soldiers from WWII to reunite and get together, or whatever kids called it these days.

It’s not like they were jumping into bed or anything (heavens, no), so maybe that’s why Romanov was unfazed.

Steve wasn’t sure.

 

Wanda was totally unbothered and Tony, well, Tony wasn’t around much anyway. Steve was pretty sure that wall between them was longing to be mended, but when the figurative construction site was more of a gaping pit than the start of a strong foundation, he figured only time would tell how Tony would feel about being friends again, if ever.

 

So yes, Bucky and Steve were a thing. A _thing_ -thing. Something unbelievable but still strangely normal, but _exhilarating_ all at once. Steve wasn’t sure if anything really noticeable had changed since he and Bucky had had that talk all those weeks ago, but he felt it, somehow.

Maybe just telling your best friend you had a big gooey heart for him was enough to buoy a relationship onwards into infinity?

 

Steve certainly hoped so, because the way they were going, he was never going to get that kiss. How hard was it, though? Surely he could just, you know, lean in one morning and give his best friend a light peck on the lips? Or when they watch TV, just curl over and press his face against Bucky’s? Why was this such a Goddamn challenge?

And why in the heavens did just the _thought_ have Steve blushing pink in a way that had people looking at him funny?

Like right now.

 

“Something on your mind, Cap?” Romanov said, flipping through her weekly rag that for some strange reason always appeared in the kitchen as if on some kind of celebrity-gossip schedule. 

 

“No,” Steve coughed, standing up from the breakfast table, his chair scraping against the cold white tile.

Natasha just eyed him. “Sure. You’re not eating?” She nodded at the empty cereal bowl at his usual seat.

Steve stretched his arms up, feeling his shoulder blades click. He hopped in place for a second. “No, waiting for Bucky. Gonna go spar.”

Nat just watched him run through some teeny tiny stretches that barely did anything for a man of his size. She could tell he was just trying to get out of her laser sights.

“Hmmm,” she hummed again, going back to her magazine, “Try not to destroy all the equipment this time. It’s a communal gym, you know.”

Steve huffed and came to a standstill. “That was one time. How were we supposed to know the sandbag stands weren’t properly bolted in?”

Nat tilted her head in a “Yeah, okay,” kind of gesture. But then she ruined the effect by saying, “I was actually referring to the barbells that were all bent out of shape, but sure, let’s talk about the exploding sandbags and shattered windows debacle.”

Steve huffed. “Yeah, okay, we’ll try.”

“You always say that,” she murmured.

 

—

 

And they really did try.

It was just hard, you know? Sparring in general had always been tough for Steve. How do you expend enough energy to give Captain America a workout? The rest of the team had, at one time or another, lent their skills and bodies to the torture of being a sparring partner for Steve, with varying results. 

Clint was the worst because he kept talking and wisecracking his way out of everything. Sure, he moved fast, but he also kind of drove Steve insane with his chatter.

Steve had to be careful, you see. He really couldn’t let loose and _actually_ hit any of his friends. And if he was distracted by babbling chatter, he sometimes had to apologize profusely and tug Clint out of the concrete he found himself embedded in. 

Sam was probably best suited to sparring, but even then, Steve had to be soft in his hits, delicate in his tosses. He couldn’t _actually hit_ Sam with all he had. The thought actually kind of terrified Steve, which is why running was his main outlet before Bucky. 

Running was easy and it didn’t hurt anyone, and it pushed his stamina and lungs and most of his muscles to their full exertion levels. If Steve was completely honest, though, he gosh darn hated running. It was so boring, so monotonous. Sam had once shown him videos of guys and gals who leaped across buildings and hopped railings and fences for fun. Free-running and parkour? That was ridiculous to Steve. It made no sense to his strategic way of laying out an attack. He liked sparring. He liked looking for ins and moments and flashes of brilliance in fighting. He didn’t just want to stretch his muscles, he wanted to _win._ He _liked_ winning. Not that he yelled that from the rooftops, but it was probably fairly obvious to the others that they just couldn’t train with him much anymore, even though the compulsion to train was so deeply ingrained in his DNA.

 

But then there came Bucky.

 

Oh Sweet Jesus, Bucky Barnes and all his Howling Commando experience and his super soldier training and his powerful legs and whippet-fast tactics. It was everything Steve had ever wanted in a sparring partner. He and Bucky were fairly evenly matched, but that wasn’t the main thing. No, what really made Steve’s energy soar was the sheer brilliance of Bucky as a fighter. He was sharp, and focused and near-dangerous in his methods. Sure, Steve had seen all of this in the Winter Soldier. It was terrifying, but also very, very interesting. Bucky played the long game. He plotted and he planned and he worked with subterfuge, sometimes faking injuries, sometimes using Steve’s weight against him and tossing him aside like he weighed nothing. It was breathtaking. Like a Russian ballet, Bucky worked in movements, phases and volleys and bounds and usually wrapped it up with a tight finish.

 

Bucky was awesome and he left Steve breathless.

 

—

 

Bucky was also still very distracting, though.

Sam had alluded to this problem before, once when Bucky had mopped the floor with Cap. Steve had said it was because Bucky had cracked a dirty joke that made Steve burble with laughter and therefore hadn’t seen the leg-swipe coming. Sam, on the other hand, insisted it was because Steve didn’t have his eye on the prize, meaning he wasn’t trying to disarm Bucky so much as wrap his arms _around_ Bucky. Aggressively hugging Bucky wasn’t really a good tactic after all.

 

“Little less grab-ass and how about some more brawling?” Sam had snorted.

 

Humph.

 

There was no ‘ass-grabbing’ going on. _If only._ No, no, Steve and Bucky genuinely enjoyed sparring. It was always such a good relief strategy. And Steve felt like he needed a lot more relief these days.

 

“He fought with everyone, you know,” Bucky said as Sam led them out of the elevator and into the wide open gymnasium floor. This place was thankfully off-limits to Stark Industries staff. “And I mean _everyone_ ,” he sighed melodramatically.

“He was a pipsqueak though,” Sam answered, kicking at a stray yoga ball that bounced into the distance.

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky said, “Knee high to a daisy, this kid, but that don’t mean he didn’t try to get into fights with anything that moved.”

“It wasn’t like that and you know it,” Steve sighed. He followed the other two out over to the blue mats. There was a ton more room now that Bucky and Steve had hoisted the barbell set and rack over to the far corner, room enough to lay out more mats. 

“I can see it, though,” Sam chuckled. “Lil’ itty-bitty Steve in his boxing stance, knocking whatever blocks off he could.”

Steve snorted.

Bucky laughed. They both knew he hardly ever landed his punches back then. Brooklyn was a long time gone.

Steve pulled his hoody off and threw it over onto one of the empty seats nearby. Sometimes people liked to watch them fight. At first, it was entertaining to the others, seeing Bucky and Steve brawl like idiots. It was when shit got broken and drywall crumbled that everyone decided it was safer to just stay clear.

Hey, they _tried_ to be good.

“Are you two gonna keep yammering or are we gonna go?” Steve grumbled. He tugged his left arm straight across his chest and twisted a few times. His grey t-shirt was sitting a little snug, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t actively dress his best for the gym. The only difference since Bucky had joined, was Steve investing in workout shorts and wraps for his feet. He found the extra exertion made him overheat in sweatpants and he hated fighting in the new-fangled running shoes everyone wore these days. Barefoot was best, but wrapped feet gripped better too.

“Hey, I just came to get my gear,” Sam answered, walking over to one of the many ellipticals. He hoisted up his tattered gym bag. “Left it last time when we ran out to–“ he glanced at Bucky, “Well, you know. Spy stuff. Secret codes and whatnot.”

Bucky just snorted. It was nice that Sam thought Bucky was put out by the fact the Avengers still ran out into the night to fight crime. Bucky wasn’t too bothered by it, what with being a completely recognizable war criminal in the eyes of the law. He just didn’t like not knowing where Steve was, is all.

Sam waved as he passed between the other two men. “Don’t kill each other. Again.”

Steve sighed audibly and stared at the ceiling. This was his cross to bear. Then he looked back down.

Bucky was already prepped to go, it seemed.

He was wearing his usual black tank top and loose black shorts, the long kind Sam kept buying them. _Breathable, moisture-wicking fabric_ Sam kept yelling at their sweaty faces.

Bucky didn’t wrap his feet. Maybe his soles weren’t sweaty the way Steve’s were. 

He stood tall, just a couple feet away, arms up as he tied back most of his messy brown hair. Bucky got what he could into the tiny hair-tie before smirking at Steve.

“Right over there?”

Steve huffed. “Yeah. Of course. So.” He took a few steps back and forth, swinging his arms out and in, stretching some more. “Remember, we gotta stay in bounds.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and tilted his neck from side to side. “Yes, Boss.”

Yeah, the newest rule wasthe toughest ever set down. To save the building and the people living inside it, Bucky and Steve had been coerced into Natasha’s rule of staying on the mat. It sounded so stupid at first, the two of them only being allowed to fight on the mats, but it actually turned out to be surprisingly difficult. They couldn’t toss each other across the room, which meant both men had to seriously pay attention to their weight distribution and force, but because they were just so damn _strong_ it made it more challenging to just stay upright and be the last man standing. Also, the equipment survived and the others could continue using it.

 

“Okay,” Steve twirled his left foot around, then moved so he could stretch his right.

“You done?” Bucky raised a brow.

“Yeah,” Steve smiled then took a dive.

Bucky saw it coming and hopped to the side. Steve snagged his left knee and Bucky went down…and they were off.

 

Bucky used to laugh when Steve would fall down and then flip himself upright, either by rollingover his own shoulders, or leaping to his feet like a gymnast. Yeah, Bucky had laughed until the first time Steve rolled up, swiped his legs and tackled Bucky face-first into the mats. He’d learnt fast enough.

 

Now, Bucky was adept at twisting, so he did his damn best. 

Lickety-split and both men were back on their feet, fists raised.

Steve grinned and circled Bucky with a spring in his step.

Bucky liked to kick. A lot. Steve stopped the first blow with his left forearm, right hand immediately going up to block Bucky’s left fist. The metal stung as it slammed into Steve’s palm. Steve just held on tight and _yanked,_ pulling Bucky forward.

“Fuck, no,” Bucky hissed and slammed into Steve, chest-to-chest. They both toppled over and rolled apart as fast as ever, like jack-in-the-boxes. Nat used to say it was like watching kittens play-fight.

Steve rubbed his sternum. “Ow.”

“Oh, poor baby,” Bucky smirked, turning away, walking around and then coming back in like a shark. Steve blocked every lightning-fast hit and landed a few of his own. They went at it like that for a long stretch, both men lobbing fists and knees and kicks at one another. They moved faster and faster, both precariously hanging onto their balance as the hits became more frequent, more powerful. The only sounds were their feet sliding across the mats and the dense hit of fists against flesh.

Their bodies almost thundered when they made contact now. With anyone else, Steve would have had to hold back, because these hits? They were not made for the average fighter. Bucky could take them, even if it made him grunt and shift his stance. And Steve felt every impact Bucky made, like an earthquake rattling his body. When they fought like this, on and on, it felt like two unnatural forces colliding perfectly. Every muscle was tensed and every limb got a full workout. Steve got to test his reflexes and Bucky got to beat the shit out of someone who didn’t crumble.

They tumbled and they rolled and they kicked and thumped against one another, faster and faster.

Bucky grunted when his back hit the mats, immediately followed by him twisting, legs snagging Steve’s and knocking Captain America on his star-spangled ass.

Steve stumbled when he leapt to his feet again, backing up as fast as he could as Bucky came at him, all kicks and jabs and elbows.

Bucky managed to get Steve turned around and his arm wrapped around Steve’s neck. The only way out of this hold was for Steve to brace his feet and lob himself backwards, effectively crashing both of them into the ground.

Bucky rolled, swearing as he went, but he took Steve with him.

Steve found himself pressed face-down while Bucky grappled for a secure hold. 

“God, keep still!” Bucky hissed, as Steve’s hips shifted and his legs scrabbled. Steve twisted his lower half, throwing Bucky aside, before scrambling up and hopping back, away.

Bucky rolled to his feet, panting.

Steve grinned and hopped from side-to-side, fists up. “I can do this all day, Buck.”

His hair was sticky and sweat was beading against his brow.

Bucky wiped at his own hair and placed his hands on his hips. He huffed. “That never gets old, huh,” 

Steve only smiled wider. “Well, come on.”

Bucky just rolled his eyes and settled his feet firmly, knees bent. His metal arm shone under the gym lights. 

Sweat glistened on Bucky’s thick arm and collarbones. Steve licked his lips.

“Parker was right, you know,” Bucky said, coming a little closer. 

Steve tensed, fists tightening. “About what?” 

Bucky smiled, and _God_ it made Steve’s heart soar.

“Gotta keep going for your legs,” and _shit,_ Bucky feinted right and Steve fell for it, left fist flying. 

“Damnit!” Steve bellowed as Bucky ducked down and just rammed his shoulder right into his stomach, one arm wrapping around Steve’s left leg, the other nudging at Steve’s right knee. All this together, and Steve just toppled like a pack of dominoes.

Steve grunted and would have twisted, had his left knee not been firmly pinned by Bucky’s right knee and if his right leg wasn’t turned inwards and pinned by Bucky’s fucking cybernetic arm from hell. It was damn awkward position, twisting his hips away from the mat, while he tried to get his back straightened out and further away.

Bucky’s free right arm slammed at his shoulder, pressing Steve back down. Steve’s chest heaved as he breathed deeper, catching his breath.

“This counts as a pin,” Bucky huffed out, hair escaping from his messy tie.

Steve just made a face and stuck out his tongue. “Ain’t any rules like that, and you know it.” he retorted.

Bucky looked like he had a quick remark, but Steve moved quicker. He slammed his left hand into Bucky’s ribs, making the soldier squawk and leap away.

Steve couldn’t help laughing. “You still ticklish, huh?” He rolled to his knees while Bucky just glared at him.

“I wouldn’t call that a _tickle_ ,” Bucky groused. “Watch the merchandise.”

Steve could feel his own t-shirt sticking to his chest and back, so he flapped the sparse material as best he could. Surely they hadn’t been sparring long enough to feel winded?

But then Bucky was dripping sweat now and he looked to be taking this moment to rest, just as Steve was. With his wet skin and damp shirt, Bucky looked beyond amazing, like the cocky Brooklyn boy from Steve's memories, only much bigger these days. 

 

“You’re awfully close to the edge there,” Steve grinned devilishly.

Bucky looked over his shoulder and spun his head round to scowl at Steve. “You play so dirty, Rogers.”

Steve just grinned wider. He scooted closer, walking on his knees. “Aw, c’mon, Buck. You know how it goes.” If he could knock Bucky off the mat, that’d make him the winner. Now he wondered why he’d even blurted it out.

God, but Bucky just looked so good, and healthy and _happy_ like this. Less like a sleeper agent and more like himself.

It had Steve feeling all giddy again. He scooted closer some more and ducked his head a little.

“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that, you fuckin’ sneak,” Bucky growled. “I don’t fall for that shit, you know.”

“What shit?” Steve said, leaning closer, his heart pounding in his chest.

Bucky smirked and that really should have been Steve’s warning before he was summarily slammed backwards and tangled up in a chokehold from behind.

“Geh!” Steve gritted his teeth and kicked out, but Bucky’s legs wrapped around him, strong as snakes.

Steve, ever the strategist, didn’t try to pull at the arm around his neck, instead, he reached down with both hands and scrabbled at those thick, strong thighs. Bucky grunted in surprise, clearly not intending to have to focus on his legs all of a sudden. Steve just _pulled_ , his fingers grappling until they hooked behind a knee each and he almost crowed when Bucky released his neck as Steve just _yanked_ , pulling Bucky’s legs wide open so he could twist around like a fish.

He quickly snagged one knee and pushed it into Bucky’s chest as he sat down on the other thigh, pinning him.

Steve huffed, catching his breath as Bucky just glared up at him like a frazzled cat. Steve leaned into his opponent’s leg, feeling himself press into Bucky’s weight. His heart thundered in his chest and sweat dripped into his eyes, but he felt so damn _alive_! 

He couldn’t help smiling. “Gotcha.”

Feeling Bucky’s heft right beneath him made all kinds of tingles run up and down Steve’s spine like a damn teenager. The back of Bucky’s thick thigh was _right there_ , pressed up against Steve, all hard and hot and tense and he was trying _desperately_ not to make it too obvious that he was two seconds away from popping a boner, or nudging himself into Bucky’s warmth. Just a little; for science. God, just staring down into Bucky’s grey-blue eyes made Steve want to collapse in defeat. D _o what you must!_ he wanted to yell to the heavens.

Bucky sighed and yanked at Steve’s damp t-shirt. “C’mere,” He was breathing deeper from the exertion.

Steve’s brows rose and he felt his blood start to race faster. Was it finally going to happen?

Here he was, pressed against Bucky, closer than humanly possible while fully clothed, and Bucky was tugging at him, pulling his head down, closer

“Punk,” Bucky’s eyes flicked over Steve’s face and Steve felt his stomach gurgle nervously.

“…Uh?” Steve licked his lips, head hovering uncerainly.

“Oof!” he grunted as he felt Bucky’s lower leg push against the floor and dislodge Steve from his oddly comfortable position pinning his best friend to the gym mats. Steve couldn’t believe he’d fallen for it _again._ “You piece of–“ he snapped, fully aware of what was about to happen. 

And like many, many stupid times before, Bucky managed to flip Steve unceremoniously onto his front and lock him down, grabbing both hands and pinning them to Steve’s lower back while landing heavily on Steve’s ass. America’s Greatest Hero grunted in defeat, his cheek pressed to the blue mat of shame.

Bucky breathed heavily and Steve could just hear the chuckle under it all. 

“Never gets old, Rogers.” Bucky said, and even though Steve couldn’t see him, he could hear the smug smile of satisfaction on the bastard’s beautiful face.

“I hate you,” Steve sighed heavily, going lax.

Bucky shifted atop him, making Steve uncomfortably aware of how much pressure was being placed on his hips and nether regions.

Then he felt Bucky’s full weight press into his back. _Fuck._

Steve’s breath caught. Bucky’s chuckle was closer now.

“You do not,” the soldier murmured. “You love it when I win.” And Steve could _swear_ he felt Bucky press him harder into the mats, all two-hundred something pounds of him.

“Unh,” Steve couldn’t hold that in.

He felt his face flush in embarrassment.

Bucky all but purred in his ear and shifted some more.

Yeah, that _definitely_ was a mound of human flesh pushing into Steve’s right butt cheek. Hoo boy.

God, he really wanted to make out with Bucky. Now would be perfect if he wasn’t having his face mashed into the mats.

 

And then Bucky’s breath and voice were gone. Steve felt him stand and move away.

He exhaled, unsure if this was better or worse. Better because it was less embarrassing and less obvious how much of a lovestruck fool he was. Worse, because he really enjoyed Bucky’s weight pinning him like that.

 

He lay there, staring across the blue mats and wondered what had become of his already bizarre existence.

A pair of feet came into view.

“You just gonna lie there forever?” Bucky rumbled amusedly from somewhere above.

Steve, grown man and all-around American war-hero just shrugged. With a weird erection and only time on his side, he answered, “Yeah. I am.”

 

—

 

They still shared quarters, he and Bucky. It was something Steve expected Bucky to wave off sooner or later. They didn’t have to be roomies, they were adults now.

 

But they continued on like this anyway, trading off showers and spending more time together than Steve could ever think was possible. He still couldn’t believe it sometimes, that he had Bucky back.

Steve sat on his bed and rubbed a towel through his hair. He’d donned some fresh black sweatpants, the ones with the word ‘Juicy’ stamped on the ass in silvery script. Clint’s gifts were always very unique.

He sighed loudly, hands falling between his knees, towel draped around his neck. This thing with Bucky was driving him a little loopy.

Sure, Buck had been ok with his admission of lovestruckness. In typical Bucky fashion, he’d taken it in stride, fully onboard with Steve Rogers being smitten with his dumb face. Yeah, Bucky seemed okay with it, but … he didn’t exactly cuddle up with Steve at night (which would be awesome), nor did he seem to want to get handsy or kiss Steve any time soon (which would be most appreciated).

Steve told himself that that was okay. This whole situation was better than both of them being dead or frozen or government liabilities anyhow.

Bucky had always been _close_ to Steve, so this wasn’t exactly too far off from their lives in Brooklyn. Back then they’d barely managed to get rent together each month, but they’d had each other.

Steve knew a lot of that was foggy for Bucky, his memories a little tarnished around the edges.

This was okay. He shook himself and stood up when he heard the bathroom door opening.

Bucky appeared from a cloud of steam caught Steve’s breath, just like every other time.

Thank the Lord Jesus Christ for the twentieth century invention of elastic fabrics and underwear.

Bucky had given Steve so many weird looks the first time he’d explained the greatness of what he’d come to learn were ‘boxer briefs’. So different from the forties, these new inventions made underwear a thousand times more comfortable for the men of the species.

No more pinching, more support, no more sagging and the wide elastic waistband really help keep ‘em up.

Bucky was impressed, and boy, could he fill ‘em out well.

Steve really tried to work on his blush reflex. It was getting pretty out of hand, especially for a superhero. Bucky just sort of blew one too many fuses for him. Like right now. He just came swanning out of the bathroom, completely unconcerned with his state of undress.

When they’d had the meltdown in Leipzig, Steve had almost fallen over himself when Bucky’d changed into his now completely ruined outfit of leather jacket, pants and boots. Bucky had been wearing a Goddamn jockstrap from the, like, the sixties, or some shit, which was beyond strange. Surely the Winter Soldier had been introduced to more modern underwear? But apparently Alexander Pierce’s care of Russian sleeper soldiers didn’t extend to updating all their basic needs.

So Bucky had been making do all this time with protective sports jocks that were functional, but not necessary at all.

Seeing his bare ass that day in the parking garage had been a little too much, even for Steve. Sam had been polite enough not to snicker too loud.

But yes, boxer briefs. Bucky was fully onboard now. Standingjust outside Steve’s bedroom door, he cut quite the figure in his dark grey underwear and not much else.

“You feeling okay?” Bucky enquired, coming in, all nonchalant. His hair was damp and messy and Steve just wanted to comb it back from his face.

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” Steve sighed and slapped his thighs before standing.

“Decent workout?” Bucky said, eyes lazily roaming down Steve’s chest and stomach. When he did stuff like that, Steve felt all squirmy and shy, even.

“It was alright,” Steve shrugged with a smirk.

Bucky snorted and poked Steve right in the sternum. “Rematch tomorrow,” and he turned, heading out and back to his own room.

God, but if that ass couldn't start another world war, nothing would.

 

—

 

So it was finally time for Bucky to assist in their crazy Avenger adventures, as Sam labelled them.

Except Tony wasn’t onboard and Bucky needed an outfit.

He’d initially blanched at the idea of donning anything as cheesy as the Captain America get-up.

“I don’t need nothin’” Bucky griped once again, standing on the dais in the lab. A tech was moving around him, scanning his outstretched arms. Dr Azzam was back, something Steve was happy to see, as Bucky had learnt to be okay in her presence. The other techs? Not so much.

So while Bucky glared at the young man waving a weird scanner over his ribs, Steve just sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah you do, Buck. You wanna fight with us, you gotta be wearing the right stuff."

The tech trembled when Bucky scowled harder at him. “A-all good, uh, sir,” the kid stuttered, backing away.

“Thank you, Trevor,” Dr. Azzam murmured. “If you could please update Sergeant Barnes’ specs, we can get to the printer.”

“See, Buck,” Steve huffed, folding his arms. “I’m not letting you out there with Hydra when you’re just as susceptible to bullets as anyone else.”

Bucky grunted and flicked his gaze up. He was standing there in his underwear, fully aware that Steve was never going to let him out of this torture.

“I don’t wanna dress up like a fuckin’ clown, though. Just let me wear my old stuff.”

“You mean your burnt and torn up jacket? Or your blood-soaked pants and boots?”

Bucky shifted, his left arm dropping heavily to his side.

“You’re getting fitted whether you like it or not,” Steve finished. Another tech appeared with a clothes rail on wheels. “Plus, the Doc here’s been working night and day on this stuff for you. You better be grateful.”

Bucky actually _pouted._ He mumbled something under his breath like a damn five year-old.

“All right, sergeant,” Dr Azzam murmured kindly, pulling at the first outfit. “We’ve put our best teams to work, updating the quality of protective gear, specially to Captain Rogers’ specifications.”

“What?” Bucky groused, eyed the dark, limp fabric warily. He glared at Steve. “What specifications?”

“Well,” the Doc said, unzipping what looked to be a simple jacket. “Kevlar lining on all pieces, to start with.”

“Bulletproofing, Buck,” Steve added.

“And the standard anti-shock lining for electrical currents, reinforced neck pieces and shock-absorbing footwear.”

Bucky tugged on the jacket first. It was a plain black leather thing that zipped up nicely. The pants were a little tougher to manage. They looked to be leather-ish too, and not exactly simple to get up those massively muscled legs of his.

Steve watched this with amusement, as Bucky had to lean on the Doc’s shoulder as he tried to jam on the pants.

“Ugh,” Bucky grumbled, standing up.

The Doc circled him, tapping away at her tablet. “I’m going to say no this this one,” she murmured.

Bucky looked beyond relieved, knowing this crap was being kiboshed right out the gate.

“The new pleather-mimicry was thought to be aesthetically pleasing but I can see immediately how limited your movement would be in this.”

“Too tight,” Bucky rumbled. He shook out his left foot. “Ankles are too tight.”

Steve smiled. This was gonna be good.

Bucky wormed out of that atrocious outfit before grumpily fitting himself into three more renditions of the gear the Avengers wore. He very much preferred open sleeves, so the Doc mentioned using Hawkeye templates going forward. 

He also really hated the one-pieces.

“How’m I s’posed to take a leak?” he complained, tugging at this one outfit’s overly-snug crotch.

The Doc took note.

He seriously hated the red and blue shitshow that came out, hinting at the Captain America get-up like some kind of cheap replica. “No,” Bucky wouldn’t even touch it. “I ain’t no party trick.”

Steve could see where this was going. After the eighth outfit change, Bucky was still indignant, with folded arms and a scowl set in his face.

“Buck, you can’t just say not to everything.”

“This is so stupid,” Bucky said back sharply.

“I know,” Steve smiled, “But it’s for your safety, all right? You know my suit’s got all the same stuff built into it, right? Can you imagine me running out there without it?”

Bucky eyed Steve, arms big and bulky and firmly crossed over his chest.

“Didn’t stop you getting shot in the gut,” he murmured dully.

Steve felt his heart give a little flop. “Been upgraded since then.”

That seemed to simmer Bucky a bit, as his eyes roamed over Steve, contemplating.

Dr Azzam reappeared. She held out a cowl with eye-holes and smiled.

“No,” Bucky snapped. Steve rolled his eyes and sighed like an exhausted parent.

 

An hour later, the Doc had a veritable manual on the do’s and don’ts of outfitting one cranky super soldier. It made Steve realize just how easy to please _he_ was, because he’d hopped into the first uniform given to him, regardless of the era.

“Okay,” she murmured, unperturbed by her most irascible patient. “No sleeves, no non-breathable fabrics.” She tapped some more. “No flexible shoes, only boots. No velcro, no buttons, no denim.” she scrolled down her tablet. “Easy-access to hidden pockets appropriate for knives, switchblades, sidearms and no sagging pocket. Nothing that can fall out or get stuck.”

Steve barely carried anything apart from his shield.

The Doc handed over her tablet. “Here, try moving these assets around. Maybe you have a personal idea of what would work best?”

Bucky’s flicked over the strange array of screen options, but after a few swipes, seemed to get the hang of it.

He nudged at one thing, “Can they be more like this?”

The Doc leaned in and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Sergeant, the Captain has strictly forbidden loose fabric like that.”

Bucky glared up at Steve. “I can’t have comfy pants?”

Steve sighed. “Imagine they snag on something. Or someone gets a good grip on you, then what?”

Bucky shrugged. He poked at the screen a little more, moving imaginary things around the little wireframe of his own body.

“Ok,” he grumbled, handing it back to the Doc. She looked it over and smiled wide.

“We may have just the thing.”

Steve could tell Bucky doubted it.

“You know I’m only agreeing to this because I can’t let your dumb ass out there to get shot at again, right?” Bucky uttered while they waited for her return.

“Right, of course,” Steve nodded and pursed his lips. “It’s not like I can look after myself now.”

“Yeah, your size ain’t got nothin’ to do with your stupidity,” Bucky huffed. “You were reckless as shit back then, you’re just easier to spot now.”

Steve’s chest just swelled. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckled, looking down.

Bucky still stood on that small dais in his underwear and looked every bit the dangerous hoodlum from back in the day. Just with massive, rippling muscles and thighs for days.

“Okay, gentlemen,” the Doc said, interrupting Steve’s wandering eyes. “I have this outfit being put through the 3D printer, but I may be able to do a test-run with the holo-build software Mr Stark has us using these days.”

Bucky and Steve gaped.

“Uh, what?” Bucky said.

The Doc smiled again, “I’ll just use the 3D scanner to overlay a semi-real version of this uniform over your body. You don’t have to do a thing, just stand there, arms slightly out, please.”

Bucky unfolded himself warily and spread his legs a little. He rolled his shoulders while the Doc tapped out instructions on her computer nearby. The dais lit up with blue light. 

Bucky jolted when it started to turn slowly.

“What the hell?” he barked.

“Hey, Doc, warning?” Steve added. It was never too careful to remind others of Bucky’s hair-trigger reflexes.

“Of course, my apologies,” she murmured. “The holo-build can only work in a forty-five degree range, so we will have you turning as it builds around you, okay?”

“ _What?_ ” Bucky said once more. “Am I supposed to understand that?”

“Just stand there, Buck,” Steve said calmly. “It’s gonna turn you slowly. You just gotta hold still.”

And the machine started up with a low hum. A layer of flat light lit up in front of Bucky and began its chore.

It raced up and down, slivers of lights, creating a 3D-looking hologram of Bucky’s new outfit. Slowly, Bucky turned, his limbs barely moving. First the area around his left leg, ribs and left arm, then it moved him and started on the next section, his side and hip. Slowly, slowly the gadget built up a pretend uniform, while Steve just stared, in awe. And sure, Bucky was turned away from him right now and the lasers were doing their damnedest to work around that seriously well-rounded ass Bucky always seemed to have had, super-serum or no. The laser wrapped up those thick, ropey legs and calves. It shimmered over that strong back, the wide rib cage and shoulders. Both arms were left bare, but for bracers and fingerless gloves, both of a rough, dark leather-like material. His body turned again and the machine zipped up and down, its lights painting Bucky up like a hero, the hero he was.

Strong, reinforced boots encased his lower legs. Sturdy, but tight pants wrapped his knees and thighs up securely, in that strange, familiarly textured and strong material Steve felt himself wrapped up in as Captain America. The jacket, well, it wasn’t surprising, but it was black and sturdy and closed to the side of Bucky’s sternum, a simple neck support-collar rising up. It was way more snug than the one from Leipzig and it just helped accentuate Bucky’s _bulk._

By the time it was finished, Steve was _sold._ Yes, yes and _yes._

_“Doc,”_ he breathed, then cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. Really.”

Bucky twisted and moved his hands in front of his face. The holo-build moved with him, like a real outfit.

“This is so odd,” he murmured with that cute confused frown of his. He touched his stomach and his finger buzzed.

“What do you think, Sergeant?” Dr. Azzam murmured. “I realize it doesn’t fit like a real uniform, but does it look a little more your style?”

Bucky hummed for a moment. He twisted around, checking himself out.

“What do you think, _Captain_?” he asked.

Steve had to clear his throat some more. “Mmm, yeah. Uh, good. Great. If you like it, I like it.”

Bucky smirked at him.

The Doc nodded and tapped something into her tablet. “Okay, so we should have it ready for you soon. I’ll notify you when. Now, Sergeant, there will be talk of a cowl of some sort. Are you completely averse to the idea?”

Bucky stopped, “A cowl? You mean like the helmet-thing Steve has to wear?”

The Doc nodded.

“Why I gotta wear one?” Bucky griped. “I’d prefer not to.”

Steve’s smile was softer this time. “It’s more for your safety, Buck.”

“My head’s tough as shit, Stevie, you know that. Blockhead, right?”

“No, I know,” Steve sighed, “ It’s more along the lines that you’re pretty recognizable.”

Bucky eyed him. “Uh, you’re Captain-fucking-America. You don’t gotta hide too much. Everyone knows your name and where you live.”

“Yeah, but not everyone’s knows James Buchanon Barnes is shacking up with us these days. You still got a low profile, you know.”

Bucky looked him over. “You mean, my face needs to be covered? So no one realizes I’m fighting with you guys?”

“For your safety, Buck,” Steve stood and came closer.

“You mean, for the Avengers’ public image. No sociopathic killers here, right? No Winter Soldier.”

“No, listen,” Steve quickly eyed the Doc who took the hint.

“I’ll be outside,” she murmured quickly before leaving, shutting the stupid glass door behind her.

“Listen,” Steve stepped up to Bucky and looked up the extra three inches. Stupid dais.

“It’s more like the bad guys will recognize you. You’re a fuckin’ prize, Barnes; A holy terror with unmatched skills. You think they wouldn’t think twice about locking you down and taking you for their own?”

He didn’t have to mention Pierce.

“C’mon,” Steve said, leaning up and staring into those dark blue eyes. “Think about it. I want you to fight with me. We’d make an awesome team, right? But I also don’t want assholes thinking you’re worth more than whatever Hydra weapon they’re protecting. You’re mine, Barnes.”

Bucky grunted, but didn’t look away. 

“So I gotta cover my face.”

Steve sighed, “Some of it, if not all.”

Bucky had mentioned how the Winter Soldier’s mask had been stifling and uncomfortable.

“So, five percent?” Bucky asked.

“Twenty-five,” Steve urged.

Bucky scowled. “I don’t like masks.”

Steve looked up at Bucky, seeing the annoyance in that stubborn face. God, he really loved this friggin’ fool.

“Okay, we’ll figure something out.”

—

So Bucky was actually out with them. It was nuts and before this trip, Steve had been so _jazzed_ about having his best friend alongside him.

They were gonna bust chops and tie up the bad guys and then shower and watch cartoons on their couch.

 

Except that was complete _bullshit_ and Steve _should have known_.

It was during the massive mess of battle, with concrete crumbling around them, Steve’s ears filled with the barrage of explosions and bullets exploding from around them. The Hydra base was coming down around their ears. Wanda was making room for them as they hurried to not only clean up the bad guys, but get out safely.

Nat was cracking some idiot’s wrist and Clint was slinging arrows like he had a magical unlimited supply (which Steve knew was painfully untrue). Sam was grounded, outside the toppling building, his voice yammering away in Steve’s ear. The basic message being: get out now!

This should have all been much simpler and cleaner, especially with their _out_ clear as day before them, until a massive projectile flew just past Steve’s right side. A Bucky-shaped projectile catapulted across the open space between the Avengers (what was left of them) and the Hydra scum still firing their semi-automatics. Bucky grunted when he hit the ground and Steve realized he was wrapped in some kind of electric-shock wiring, like super-sized taser wire.

His arms were wrapped to his sides and his legs flailed. And Steve, well, he just reacted on impulse.

And yeah, perhaps having Bucky on the team proved to be a little detrimental to Steve’s health.

 

—

 

Clint was _so mad_. Natasha was majorly unimpressed and Sam, well, he wasn’t that surprised.

“You’re a real prize idiot, you know that?” Bucky said gruffly while Wanda attended to Steve’s sliced jaw. They all looked like they’d been through the wringer. Wanda was missing a chunk of hair and her long coat was scorched.

Nat was covered in so much blood, she looked beyond uncomfortable sitting on the jet, intent on getting home and showering.

“Hey, they were gonna slit your throat!” Steve came back. He unsnapped the cowl’s chinstrap and pulled it off, giving Wanda more room to fuss. Fuck, his head was ringing.

Bucky was sat beside him, glaring away, even with the black war paint smudged around his eyes, obscuring his basic features, but highlighting those strikingly bright eyes.

“Clint almost lost his arm,” Nat said.

Steve frowned, “Hey, we got out fine.”

“You set a guy on _fire_ ,” Sam said sharply.

“It was his own weapon!” Steve cried out, hands flipping wide. Wanda shifted. 

“You’re an idiot for your boyfriend,” she rumbled at him in that slavic way of hers.

Steve paused and caught her gaze. She dabbed at his brow. Was that blood?

“He was in danger…” Steve said softly.

“I was _fine_ ,” Bucky retorted. “You moron.”

Steve looked about at the annoyed faces of his friends. 

“So you’re all saying I overreacted?”

“We’re saying you lost your damn _mind,_ ” Sam shook his head.

“And I almost lost an arm!” Clint bellowed from the pilot’s seat.

Oh.

 

—

 

“So that went well,” Bucky murmured.

Steve was slouched on their sofa, trying to sink deeper into his personal oblivion.

Bucky sat down heavily beside him, smelling of Steve’s shampoo.

He had this weird idea that Bucky showered a lot.

“I want to _die_ ,” Steve mumbled, toying with his sweatpants’ tie.

Bucky sighed and tugged atthe blanket they kept on the back of the sofa.

“I learned a new word today. Drama-queen.”

Steve looked up at his best friend. “I am not,” he answered coldly, morosely.

Bucky actually smiled like the devil he was. “Hey, I’m still learning about this crazy time we live in.”

“You learn that from Ru Paul?” Steve huffed and stared forward again.

“Who?” Bucky asked.

God, Steve just wanted to melt away. He’d been so _stupid_! Of course Bucky was distracting. Of course he wanted to protect him at all costs. Steve just should have figured that on the battlefield, he got a little carried away.

“You left a helluva dent in that tank,” Bucky murmured. He pulled the blanket over the both of them.

“Stupid tank,” Steve said.

“I bet it was,” Bucky chuckled.

And Steve felt it as Bucky scooted in closer, all two-hundred and sixty pounds of muscle and metal. Bucky rested his head on Steve’s shoulder and Steve’s heart almost leapt right outta his throat.

_Calm down, penis_ , he thought to his traitorous body. It was just Bucky trying to comfort him.

A hand petted against Steve’s stomach, gently stroking the grey cotton t-shirt. “You’re such a stupid punk. They just gotta learn that the hard way.”

Steve grunted. This felt nice.

“Hey,” Steve blinked at Bucky’s tone. He turned his head and Bucky pulled back ’til they were eye-level. 

“Thanks for saving my ass,” Bucky murmured, eyes flicking to Steve’s lips and back.

“You mean _making_ an ass of us,” Steve retorted bitterly despite the way his heartbeat fluttered.

“You love my ass that much, huh?” and Bucky fucking _smirked_ like he owned the universe.

Steve felt himself flush. “I do.” he answered, voice deep. “I really do, though.” Goosebumps prickled over Steve’s neck.

Bucky’s smile was soft and he rubbed his metal hand over Steve’s scalp. 

“Maybe if you weren’t starin’ so much–“ Bucky rumbled back and _fuck_ , but he leaned in close, hand curling behind Steve’s neck.

Steve was shell-shocked when those plush lips pressed against his. 

_Bucky Barnes was kissing him!_

Steve groaned and shifted himself up, closer to Bucky because there was no way in hell he was gonna let him get away now.

Bucky chuckled as Steve pressed in, lips seeking more contact. Steve kissed his lips, his chin, his cheeks. He pressed heavily into Bucky, shifting up onto one knee so he could get a good grip, hands pressing to Bucky’s neck.

“Oh God, _Bucky_ ,” Steve said, breath hitching when Bucky’s mouth opened to his seeking tongue.

“Mmm,” Bucky responded, lapping at Steve, tugging at his t-shirt. “Been meaning to try this–this out for ages.” Bucky’s tongue was wet and writhing.

Steve all but moaned as he pushed Bucky back into the sofa seat. 

“Been wanting this,” Bucky huffed, hands scraping up Steve’s neck and hair. “Forever. God, Stevie, _c’mon_.”

And Steve obliged, pressing his weight into his best friend, feeling the pooling heat between them. 

“You get me all riled up,” Bucky continued, running his mouth like always. “With your stupid face and your cheating fight moves.”

“I don’t cheat!” Steve lapped at Bucky’s mouth again and felt his groin clench in anticipation. This was fucking _heaven._

“You do,” Bucky breathed heavily, hair falling like a halo against the seat cushion. “You bend yourself like a damn pretzel, all flexible and shit. Makes me wanna roll you up and … and–“

_Jesus,_ Steve felt his head rush at those words. “And what, Buck?”

“Work you over, is what,” Bucky snapped back.

It was just so _amazing_ , Steve couldn’t handle it. He wrapped both arms around and under Bucky, hugging him so tight, his best friend wheezed a little.

Steve buried his face in Bucky’s neck and just breathed him in. This was _everything_. It was like digging his way to freedom, like waking up from death. It was like coming home to nineteen thirty-six, when they were still just _Bucky ’n’ Steve_ , neighborhood troublemakers. Back when things were different and they had their entire lives ahead of them, blank and nowhere near certain of what was to come.

“Bucky,” he whimpered.

“Unh,” Bucky squirmed beneath him. Fingers found their way back to Steve’s hair. “Yeah?”

Steve just nuzzled at collarbone and skin. “ _Bucky._ ”

 

“Yeah, okay. I gotcha, buddy,” Bucky murmured, understanding Steve better than anyone else ever could.  "And then you go and almost get yourself stabbed," Bucky huffed into Steve's hair. "It's a miracle you're alive."

"Not a miracle," Steve mumbled. "Science."

Bucky chuckled. Steve felt  a hand wandering over his neck, then back. "Mmm," he murred as Bucky's right arm moved lower.

Bucky's fingers shifted down to his hip and got snagged.

"What's this?" Bucky said, tugging nat Steve's sweatpants pocket.

"Huh?" Steve rumbled, confused.

"Loose fabric? Steve, what's the matter with you? Don't you know loose pants are fuckin' _dangerous_?"

Steve rose up, forearms pressed to Bucky's chest. He frowned. "So?"

Bucky just smirked as he got a good handful of cotton and _tugged_. Steve's brows rose when he heard a seam give. Bucky just smirked wider. He tugged again and there was an audible ripping sound.

Steve couldn't have been more sure in that moment, that Bucky Barnes was the best thing to ever happen to him.

**Author's Note:**

> So schmaltzy. :P  
> Thanks for reading! Any comments/kudos/feedback is more than welcome. :)
> 
> I may update this some more, so those of you interested in subscribing, it'll probably be best to subscribe to the [series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/499846), not the individual stories. :)


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